


Weathervanes

by acciomediumdrip



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, demisexual Blaine, new york klaine, sex drive drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2457440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciomediumdrip/pseuds/acciomediumdrip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Blaine wonders if he’s grown exponentially less interested in sex over the last few months or if the amount of time he’s put into putting Kurt off the trail that his drive is at like 0% compared to Kurt’s outlandish virility has made the whole experience exponentially impossible for him to enjoy. </p>
<p>Either way, the whole process from foreplay to cleanup is something akin to the second half of an uphill marathon for Blaine. The kind of marathon where everything kind of vaguely hurts and you know you look all sweaty and gross in front of all these spectators and you’re really thirsty and kind of have to pee and the most prominent thought in your head is ‘why did I think this was a good idea?’ and then ‘when can I stop?’ Yeah. Pretty much exactly like that."</p>
<p>Or, Blaine's not really into sex and he doesn't know how to talk to Kurt about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weathervanes

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [blainersgirl](www.blainersgirl.tumblr.com) for betaeing and saving me from countless grammar mistakes.
> 
> Title from Panic at the Disco's Northern Downpour.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Kurt asks, throwing the phone he’s been fiddling with onto the coffee table. They’re lazing on the couch after cleaning up the dinner things; Blaine reading with his legs in Kurt’s lap.

“Blaine?”

For a moment a reel of possibilities spins itself through Blaine’s mind: the TV shows they have back-logged on the DVR - ones they’re saving to watch together on nights like this when their crazy schedules match up for more than a few hours; that good wine from Christmas - they could get silly, giddily drunk together and that would surely devolve into a Broadway sing-off; or there was the thumping bright rhythm of the city beyond their door - they’d been meaning to catch a couple shows that looked good and the coffee shop around the corner has live music Wednesday night.

“You want to go out?”

Kurt makes a tiny discouraging noise, his face shifting into a mischievous smile as he says, “mmm… stay in.”

Blaine knows that face.He plays dumb anyway.

“Well great! I think our DVR is like 99% full.What should we start with?”

“ _Blaine,_ I was thinking more…” Kurt inches his finger up Blaine’s thigh, ghosting over his skin on a steady trek towards his dick. “It’s been forever.”

It’s been four days. And that wasn’t even counting the morning blow job Blaine had given three days ago in the hopes of quieting Kurt’s relentless sex drive.

Blaine thinks, just for a minute, seriously thinks, about saying “no”. About telling Kurt he isn’t in the mood, doesn’t feel like it, just not right now.

But it only takes a second’s deliberation to decide against it. They are two young, healthy guys in a committed, _sexual,_ romantic relationship after all. Blaine isn’t exactly in a place to start demanding some kind of sex limit. It isn’t like Kurt is asking for anything Blaine hasn’t adamantly affirmed that he enjoys. He doesn’t _hate_ sex. He doesn’t mind it. He doesn’t even really dislike it - sometimes. So why make Kurt step over eggshells when he’s only asking for what is already expected within the context of their relationship?

Kurt’s wandering hand completes its journey towards Blaine’s dick; Kurt palming him over the thin fabric of his sweatpants.

“Hmm?”

“Yeah,” Blaine gasps. “Uh yeah, whatever you want.”

Kurt bites his lip, pink tongue darting out a second later to sooth the spot and _fuck_ Blaine has the most beautiful boyfriend in the world.

“I feel like I could come just rutting against you like a fucking teenager right now,” Kurt purrs, slithering up Blaine’s body, the two of them shifting awkwardly until Blaine has slipped down to lay on the sofa, their hips bracketing together.

And yeah, that isn’t going to work, no way in hell Blaine is going to be able to come like that. It feels like a very, very long time since he’s been sixteen.

“How about we play the game where I just lay here like a lazy sack of potatoes and you hump my leg?” Blaine says it as a joke, obviously, and if there is a terrible hint of truth in his voice, Kurt certainly doesn’t catch it.

“ _Or_ I could suck you off.”

“Nah it’s my turn, ‘member? I get to make you come.” Because Blaine is slightly terrified he won’t be aroused any time soon, can only imagine that Kurt will somehow blame himself, then wonder what’s wrong with Blaine. Getting Kurt to come as soon as possible seems a much better option than the psychological torture of getting himself to a place of possible arousal.

“ _Or_ you could fuck me,” Kurt says with a grin.

It is exactly what Kurt wants at that moment. Possibly the _only_ thing he wants in that moment. Blaine can tell from the pleading look on his face, the tone of his voice. It’s painfully obvious. And Kurt won’t ask again, not if Blaine brushes him off. He probably won’t even think anything of it if Blaine just says he’s too tired (it would just take _so long_ after all and Blaine _is_ kind of tired, or he is now). But in the end Blaine can’t even manage that.

“ _Or_ I could suck you off,” Blaine reiterates. “Come here you little minx,” and with that Blaine more or less forces Kurt up and off him and back down around onto the couch, his legs sprawling open and Blaine going at his zipper while Kurt laughs his head off at Blaine’s insistence on using ‘that entirely ridiculous pet name.’

“I’m gonna suck you off and come with your dick in my mouth and tease you out and make you wait,” Blaine mutters nonsense with Kurt’s already-hard dick in his hand (and really _how_ does Kurt manage that all the time).

“Yeah, yeah,” Kurt mutters breathily, “whatever you want.”

Blaine grins. Thank God for small miracles.

-

“We haven’t fucked in thirty-four days,” Kurt states over Sunday breakfast.

Blaine has about half a second to think fast.

If Blaine was smart this would be the perfect opener to have a real conversation about the very real problem quickly surrounding the profound differences in their sex drives. 

Blaine decides he’s really never been all that smart anyway.

Blaine drops the plate of bacon he’d been holding with a clang onto the table in mock shock. “That, dear Kurt, is simply unacceptable,” he pronounces, and sweeps Kurt up into his arms like a damsel in fucking distress and whisks him off to the bedroom.

Blaine wonders if he’s grown exponentially less interested in sex over the last few months or if the amount of time he’s put into putting Kurt off the trail that his drive is at like 0% compared to Kurt’s outlandish virility has made the whole experience exponentially impossible for him to enjoy. 

Either way, the whole process from foreplay to cleanup is something akin to the second half of an uphill marathon for Blaine. The kind of marathon where everything kind of vaguely hurts and you know you look all sweaty and gross in front of all these spectators and you’re really thirsty and kind of have to pee and the most prominent thought in your head is ‘why did I think this was a good idea?’ and then ‘when can I stop?’ Yeah. Pretty much exactly like that.

Blaine is a fucking idiot.

Kurt is ridiculously responsive, all sweet murmurs and blissful moans and it’s _almost_ enough for Blaine - to relish in Kurt’s pleasure and know he’s the one doing it. To feel Kurt’s skin against his and know that he is the only one who gets this, that what they share they share only between themselves, that they are as close as they can possibly be. Except Blaine is more or less lying, and it kind of ruins the whole _closeness_ thing when you’re more or less miserable. 

Maybe if Blaine could just learn not to _think_ during sex. 

Kurt should be adequate distraction. Beautiful and kissable and so close but a million miles away when Blaine can’t say any of the things he kind of wants to right now. Does he want to?

He doesn’t have too much trouble getting hard because Kurt is beautiful-hot-amazing-perfect and his dick has no complaints about Kurt’s expert slender hand tight around him, pumping him. Blaine knows how to work Kurt open, when to dawdle and when to keep things moving and when to pause and just breathe and feel each other breathing in the same air, existing in the same space. 

Blaine sinks into Kurt like they were made to do this, always. Fucks Kurt for what feels like forever, focusing on his face, on the perfect bow of his lips panting open in pleasure, until Kurt is so blissed out, so miraculously pliant and soft under him Blaine is afraid Kurt might fall asleep, and wouldn’t that just be too fucking much?

“Oh God, Blaine, I don’t know how much longer - fuck, you’re amazing, Jesus, but you can come, I’m good, really, yes, fuck, Blaine! Just come.”

It’s not quite that simple.

Blaine speeds up. Shifts a little so he can pound in easier. Focuses every ounce of his willpower on the sensation of fucking in and out of Kurt.

“Tell me, fuck, tell me how good it is.”

“So good, love the way you fuck me, love you.”

Blaine manages it. Just. Collapses onto Kurt and holds him close, combs his fingers through Kurt’s sweaty hair, whispers I love you into his neck and kisses him everywhere.

Blaine is reminded of finishing a marathon. Slipping past the finish line to cheers and applause, he feels just as exhausted. He can only cling to Kurt while the weird, wilted feeling inside of him diminishes, guilt, like he’s done something gross.

He knows it isn’t gross.

He knows doing things he doesn’t want to do without telling Kurt, kind of is.There’s a feeling in Blaine’s throat that’s dangerously similar to the one he gets before he’s about to cry.Blaine buries his face in the crook of Kurt’s neck and tries to convince himself he’s not crazy.

-

Blaine is horny. It’s miraculous and wondrous and Blaine can’t remember a time when he was capable of thinking a single thought beyond wanting to do everything there was to do with one Kurt Hummel.

They make out before breakfast. 

Blaine comes so fast inside Kurt there’s not even time to think about getting Kurt off while he’s still inside the way Kurt likes it. Blaine makes up for it by sucking Kurt off … twice. Then he begs Kurt to finger him because he think he can come again.

It’s kind of ridiculously glorious and Blaine is impossibly relieved he hadn’t made a fuss about whatever funk he was in earlier.It was clearly just a fluke.

Being horny lasts more or less exactly 48 hours.

-

“You want to do anything tonight?”

“Kurt, I forgot to tell you! I bought a jigsaw puzzle. I used to do them _all the time_ when I was a kid, so I thought it’d be fun.We could listen to NPR or soft jazz and be like an old couple, huh, whaddya think?”

“I think it sounds perfect.”

And it is.

 

-

 

“Hey, Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

They’d been making out, as heavily as Blaine could manage at the moment without it being obvious how very much not into it he was. Blaine is fully back in marathon mode. Sex is… a struggle. A major struggle.

“I wanna fuck you.”

Blaine thinks about bringing it up. The Talk. He decides against it.

No one ever said Blaine was smart when it came to relationships or communication or, like, anything, ever.

“Is that- is that okay, do you feel like it?”

“Uh huh.” Right. That sounds convincing. “Fuck. Yeah, Kurt, please.”

“I wanna take care of you.”

“I’m all yours.”

“Did I ever tell you I love your ass, like fucking _love_ your ass,” Kurt says with a devilish grin.

“You might have mentioned it once or twice, in actions if not in words,” Blaine shoots back playfully.

He tries to remember how to turn himself on.It’s kind of like trying to remember how to scare yourself when you’re trying to get rid of hiccups.There’s an agent missing and without it, things just don’t _connect._

Kurt looks amazing - strong and confidant and sexy.

Blaine wishes he was wearing sweatpants sitting in front of the TV with Kurt.

Kurt’s still staring at his ass. Like at his asshole.

_This is absolutely normal._

_This is fucking weird._

Blaine’s cold and Kurt’s skin where it falls against his and Kurt’s lips where they touch as he kisses across Blaine’s stomach feel intolerably hot.

“Please Kurt fuck me.” Because Blaine needs something to happen before he starts to feel like this is never going to end.

He tries to relax, tries to enjoy the pleasurable little sensations rippling up his spine from Kurt’s careful fingers. 

“Jesus, you’re tight, relax sweetheart.”

Easier said than done.

Time shifts to slow motion.

“You sure you’re into this?”

There’s a crease between Kurt’s brow. Shit, he can tell. Time to step up his game.

“Absolutely. Guess it’s just been a while.Can you just kind of jam ‘em in?”

“Jam ‘em in. World class romantic I’m dating here.”

There’s an edge of buried irritation in Kurt’s voice that Blaine absolutely does not miss.

“I’m just in such a hurry for your cock,” Blaine talks dirty like a champ, the words rolling off his tongue in a sexy snarl. He’s good enough to fool even Kurt. Or almost.

“Blaine?” Kurt asks, pausing.

Blaine groans, “I need you inside me, come on Kurt, fuck me.”

“Are you sure…”

“Kurt! Yes! _Fuck_ please!” _The sooner you go ahead and put it in the sooner we can get on with our lives._

Blaine remembers belatedly how much this is likely to hurt.

“Actually, I think, all fours maybe?”

“Oh. Yeah sure, whatever you want.”

Blaine hobbles over onto his hands and knees and bites his lip, _hard,_ to keep from making a sound as Kurt enters him.

He does anyway.

He can only hope he manages to pull off making it sound like a groan of pleasure.

“Blaine?”

“Fuck, yeah, feels amazing.” Blaine’s voice sounds tight and pained in his own ears. He feels a little like he’s being split in two, and not at all in a good way. It _hurts._ And nothing is fair. Why does it have to be like this? What is wrong with him? He wants to give Kurt the world and most of the time - most of the time he can’t even give Kurt this most basic exchange in their relationship. How can something so basic, so fundamental, be so flagrantly missing from within him? How does he expect Kurt to go on loving him when he can’t even love Kurt like this? Why can’t he just be like everyone else?

Kurt deserves better.

No one will love Kurt the way Blaine does. No one else will have what they have.

It is all so very unfair.

Blaine is crying before he can stop himself.

“Oh my God. Blaine? Blaine, what’s wrong?”

Blaine’s lost for a moment in the swirling darkness of his own crushing, mounting despair. He isn’t even entirely aware of Kurt nudging him onto his side and half pulling him into his lap.

“Blaine – Blaine… shhh… it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt, I don’t know what it is –“

“What? What is, Blaine?”

“What it is that’s broken inside me, or gets broken sometimes, or forgets to get switched on. I don’t know how it works.”

“What are you talking about? Slow down, okay? Everything’s alright now.Just - just start from the beginning. Alright? How does that sound?”

“Kurt, I don’t - shit, I don’t like having sex. Or at least not all of the time. Just once in a while when it’s like, I don’t know but it’s not often and when it’s not it’s like, it’s like this _chore_ and I didn’t know how to tell you and I felt awful, like I was lying to you but I just wanted too badly to be that for you, to be everything you needed. And it’s not bad, what we do, I don’t hate it, usually. It’s just not great. It’s not the way it’s supposed to be, and I hate not being able to tell you about it. And it’s not you, oh God it’s so not you, you’re perfect and sexy and beautiful and amazing but it’s like I can’t even think that way sometimes.I’m sorry, I should have told you. I hate that I waited so long to tell you.”

“Hey, Blaine look at me,” Kurt says softly and he’s smiling and his eyes are all warm and glowy looking at Blaine like he’s the most important thing in the world. “This deal was sealed a long time ago. I love _you,_ quirks and low sex drives-“

Blaine laughs. It sounds so impossibly simple said like that, such a non issue, easily brushed aside, barely worth noting.

“-Or whatever, no matter what. We can figure this out.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.” It’s said so simply, so unfalteringly _final_ Blaine has to let out a shuttered gasp of relief. Of course. The bottom line with them is always simple. 

“Besides what choice do I have? Run off with some porn star or something?” Kurt asks cracking himself up.

“Stop it.” Blaine laughs. 

“I love you,” Kurt repeats, his hand cupping Blaine’s cheek, thumb swiping along his skin before leaning in to brush a gentle kiss across Blaine’s lips before returning his hands to his own lap, initiating a comfortable easy distance between them.

Blaine thrums with love for his boyfriend. “I love you.”

-

Ironically, without Blaine pressuring himself to feign interest in sex for Kurt’s sake Blaine experiences something of an upswing in his sex drive.That, coupled with a discovery that Kurt comes really fucking hard from watching Blaine watch him get himself off, makes the whole communication-compromise thing really pretty easy.

Blaine has his moments of insecurity, a fluttering of unease when Kurt asks and Blaine says no and he’s convinced he can see disappointment on Kurt’s face, wonders how much longer he can ask Kurt to keep putting himself second, keep going without what he wants.

It’s a while before Blaine offers. One evening when the comfortable silence between them seems a little heavier than normal and Blaine has been thinking for days now that it’s not fair to ask Kurt to do all the compromising.

“Kurt, um, if you feel like it, we could mess around.”

“Do you want to?”

And here’s the part that matters. Because Blaine isn’t lying anymore. But he thinks, just maybe, that if Kurt knows, if he can say what he likes and doesn’t, what’s okay and what’s less okay, that it will be fine. That it will be good.

“Well, no, not exactly. But for you. I want to for you.”

Kurt shakes his head with a sad little laugh, “you’re maybe too selfless, you know that? Blaine – it kind of defeats the purpose of making you feel good, when you don’t ya’ know, want to feel good like that.”

“I could make you feel good.”

“How about back massages?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I want to relax.”

“A ridiculous, overworked person who demands back messages.”

“In a nutshell.”

“I can still watch you get off.”

Kurt shoves Blaine’s shoulder playfully, “I wasn’t even horny until you started talking about sacrificing your comfort for the good of my libido.”

“Still.”

“I don’t care about getting off. I care about you. I love you. And I’m not asking you to do something you don’t want to. Not something like this, not something that’s supposed to be just for us. That’s not what I want for either of us.”

“You deserve better.”

“I don’t deserve _you.”_

Blaine kisses Kurt and puts every ounce of love he holds for him into it.

Kurt can tell. Kurt can always tell. Blaine says it anyway.

“I love you, Kurt.”

 

 


End file.
